


Something in the shadows

by Daydreamsofu (Supertights)



Category: Avengers: The Initiative, Marvel (Comics)
Genre: Angst, Christmas, Clones, Demigods, Gen, Gift Giving, Male Friendship, Misunderstandings, Not Beta Read, POV Third Person, Superheroes, Wordcount: 1.000-3.000
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-24
Updated: 2011-12-24
Packaged: 2017-10-27 23:51:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,189
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/301449
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Supertights/pseuds/Daydreamsofu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Patrick, the Scarlet Spider, receives a most unexpected gift on Christmas Eve.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Something in the shadows

It was snowing again, not heavy, just enough to leave a light dusting on everything that didn't move including him. For not the first time since winter had set in, Patrick, last living Scarlet Spider, thanked the suit's maker for its insulating properties. He paused at the edge of the rooftop and looked down. A sudden attack of egg nog induced vertigo saw him waver and reach out to steady himself on the edge.

"I am never drinking with Spider-Man and Black Cat ever again," he muttered, seriously considering calling it a night. Not even the z-lister villains were out on Christmas eve.

In the alley below, his former team-mate and friend, Terry 'Trauma' Ward waited for him at more or less the time arranged. The dark haired youth looked at his phone then up expectantly. Even with the stealth function in place, Pat almost ducked back out of sight.

The suit's enhanced vision revealed a figure standing in the shadows a few feet away from him, wearing jeans and a hooded sweatshirt, the hood pulled up to obscure their face. If Terry was aware, he gave no sign. Hapless homeless person? Mugger? Monster from the Nightmare Realm? It could be any of them given the city and the guy waiting in the alley. Swinging over the edge, he snapped a webline out, just enough to drop fast and hard down onto the shadow. Or it would've been if the shadow was still there. Swivelling, Pat looked around and caught a fist in the face for the effort.

"Pat? Is that you," said Terry in surprise, as if he knew any other guys with stealth suits. "What the hell are you doing?"

The snow on the suit had robbed him of his invisibility it seemed. "Yeah it's me," he muttered, already moving, running along the wall around Terry's shadow to turn on a toe and kick him in ribs. "I'm stopping your mugger-to-be."

After that, for every punch, every kick or sweep of his leg, the hooded shadow mirrored him silently except for the occasional grunt. It was uncanny. He didn't do the chitchat like Spider-Man but this once he wished he was as gifted in the gab so he could cut the silence in half with a well placed quip.

"Pat, for God's sake, stop! It's not what it looks like."

Pat glanced at Terry in surprise, blocking the punch to his solar plexus automatically but missing the leg hooking his own out from under him. He rolled and came back up on his feet in a crouch, shooting a load of webbing into the hooded guy's face, but with a cry, Terry's shadow raised crossed arms, catching the worst of it on his sleeves. He lashed out, his heel connecting with Pat's groin hard.

Again he thanked the suit's maker, this time for the protective cup that felt like it had cracked in half but probably hadn't. "Low blow," he gasped.

The alleyway went cold and dark, the snow gone and the organic smell of wet dirt replaced every other odour.

"What is this?" he said, trying to get his bearings.

"It's the embrace of the grave," came a rasp of a voice that sounded too much like his own. "Death."

"Dramatic much?" he muttered. "It's Trauma is what it is." He'd switched over to his suit optics but the alleyway was gone, he was standing in a void.

"Both of you, stop it!" The suffocating darkness lifted when Terry pushed between them, pointing a finger at Pat. "Don't make me do that again, I don't like it!" He turned and pulled the sweatshirt over his shadow's head, taking the webbing with it. "Are you okay?" Terry asked him.

His heart stopped when he heard the same rasping voice reply, albeit at barely a whisper. "Yeah, I caught the edge of a kick to the neck, it's nothing, I'll be okay. He's the one who'll be walking funny."

Eyes, twins to his own, looked back when Terry moved out of the way, from a face that was his face.

"M-Michael?" It appeared to be the other clone, the first. The hair was a little long though, curling down his neck, and there were lines around his eyes. It wasn't Michael Van Patrick. The clone of him anyway. No. This was-- "Mike?" His heart skipped a beat. " _Mike_?"

" _Merry Christmas!_ " muttered Terry with fake joviality which descended into a more natural scowl.

"But--"

"Yes, yes, he was dead," Terry growled.

"But--"

"Now I'm not?" suggested Mike, he appeared to be amused by the confusion on Pat's face.

"No," he said, adding sheepishly, "I told the Baron to bury you with Van."

Mike grinned. "Oh yeah? This would be the same Baron who had such a great track record of doing _exactly_ as he was asked by, well, everyone he knew?" He pulled the sleeves of his shirt up to reveal new scars, some stitched, some more like long burns. "It's like that all over, not pretty. The old fart decided that it was a waste of genetic material, even cloned I was still better than nothing. He was pissed off at you guys for taking MVP's body back. Somehow, he jumpstarted me. I thought he'd had a freakin' heart attack when I fell off the gurney. We both hit the ground around the same time."

Pat frowned. "But how did he bring you back?"

"Lightning." Mike pulled the sleeves back down over his scars. "Because he put a little of himself in us, it couldn't kill us, not properly."

"How long have you known?" He glared at Terry.

Terry put his hands up defensively. "Hey, don't look at me like that, Pat, I only found out when Captain Rogers tried to recruit me. It was one of those pure chance things, I saw it in his mind, he must've just come from a meeting with the Baron."

"His mind--" repeated Pat, then he looked back at Mike, catching his brother staring at him. 'We're not a team anymore, are we?' he thought. The way his brother was talking, acting, even the way he was looking back at him.

"We work independently now," said Mike. "But it's still there you know, that old familiar pull at my mind, like I can just about feel what you're feeling, know what you're going to say before you say it--" He wasn't imagining the regret in Mike's eyes. He felt it too.

"If I'd known--" Pat began, but Mike swallowed him in a hug, shy at first, their eyes shining with tears.

"I know," replied Mike, not letting go. "I know you would've."

"Are we ready to go party and get drunk yet?" asked Terry impatiently. "Abby's waiting for us at this little bar down the street." He held up his phone petulantly. "Look, fifteen messages in the last two minutes. She blames _me_ for this!"

Turning to look at him, the clones pulled the reluctant teen into the hug. "Thank you," they mumbled together.

"No, no, no, I thought I made it clear a long time ago, I don't _do_ hugs!"

**Author's Note:**

> A gift for a friend, she choose not to comment on it so meh, whatever, enjoy!


End file.
